


Something Is Wrong

by CeslaToil



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Demonic Possession, Eye Scream, Other, Sexual Harrassment, Unwanted Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeslaToil/pseuds/CeslaToil
Summary: Fiddleford comes across his partner acting very strangely one night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a Tumblr Kiss Fic Meme, I wrote it as requested by Dan_vs92. Thank them for the suffering!

Something was wrong.

It was five in the morning when Fiddleford returned to the basement to resume work on the portal; he felt as if he had barely slept at all, his eyelids strained to stay open as he had descended on the elevator platform that morning. However he felt, Fiddleford thought, Stanford looked much worse. Ford had apparently been up all night working on construction by himself. The dang fool, thought Fidds, who was about to chastise Ford for yet another sleepless night when suddenly, his partner twisted around to face him.

Something was wrong.

The way Stanford carried himself was different than normal, his shoulders were hunched, like a predator about to pounce upon helpless prey. His mouth twisted into a wide, toothy smile, not unlike the Cheshire Cat from the Alice books (Fidds had never like that character as a child, it had given him the willies). Most troubling of all were the eyes: there seemed to be an almost yellow, lantern-like glow to them, and his right eye– was it bleeding?

“Oh golly,” said Fidds, who was beginning to panic. “S-Stanford? What’s wrong with–”

“Oh, I’m feeling fantastic, Fiddlesticks!”

Even his voice was wrong– it was Stanford’s deep baritone timbre, but the inflections, the subtle cadence of the words he spoke, are what rang false in Fiddleford’s ear.

"Darlin’,” Fidds let the word slip without thinking, “M-maybe ya ought to lay down, or at least, let me get something for that eye–”

Without warning, Stanford pushed Fiddleford against the wall, his cold hands pressed uncomfortably against his throat.

“W-what the hell–” Fidds started to cry; the look his partner gave him was sickening. Oh god, he feels as cold as ice.  
Something was wrong, so very wrong!  
Six fingers entangled themselves through Fiddleford’s hair; he yelped with pain as “Ford” yanked a fistful of his hair, angling his head upwards as Ford slammed his mouth against his assistant’s lips.  
It all felt so terrible– everytime Fidds tried to pull away, “Ford” would yank his hair harder; Ford’s lips felt as cold as a corpse against Fidds’ own skin, and every whimper or protest earned him a painful bite that nearly drew blood.

After what felt like an unbearable eternity, “Ford” let Fiddleford go, laughing cruelly as Fidds tearfully scrambled away.

“Lighten up, Glasses! Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood!”

Everything was so terribly wrong.


End file.
